


Eine Liebe, Ein Versprechen

by tea_limeman



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Break Up, Dom/sub Undertones, Drama, M/M, Rough Sex, sex with the ex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 17:37:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17451392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_limeman/pseuds/tea_limeman
Summary: After going seperate ways, certain circumstances have an old passion flaming up, but it's hard to find common ground again.





	Eine Liebe, Ein Versprechen

**Author's Note:**

> English translation of title: One Love, One Promise
> 
> The biggest thank you goes out to [Lily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/christophspowerstance) and [Brig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrestzelle), without whom I wouldn't have been able to present you this fic. Hugs and smooches to you both! ♡

“Paul won’t join us. He was delayed.”

Lowering the hand holding his phone, Christoph strokes a lock of hair out of his face, while sitting back down on the wooden stool he left for the phone call a few minutes ago. Till just shrugs without glancing up, continuing to dismissively flip through the magazine in his hands.

The thick silence hanging between them is uncomfortable, almost unbearably so, even after two months. Christoph restlessly fidgets at the hemline on his sweater. Eyes trained on the floor, he waits for something to happen. Hopefully, a miracle will have Richard show up, even if the others skipped out on them.

Oliver didn’t have time from the very beginning, and Flake caught a severe flu. Paul obviously had no patience for simple odds and ends, although he promised faithfully he won’t leave Christoph alone with Till.

A glance at the clock tells Christoph that, by now, he’s wasted over an hour with waiting. They should have cancelled the meeting as soon as one of them called off. Now he is condemned to kill time, _while_ attempting to prevent Till’s presence giving him melancholy.

Uneasily drumming his fingers against his knee, he stares out beyond the window next to him. He watches the lone tree in the middle of the yard shedding its leaves. A gust lifts them up in the air, making them dance around until their gyration finds a sudden end at the bottom of a nearby wall.

The sudden beeping of a phone indicating someone just received a message breaks the lengthy, tense silence. It earns Christoph’s gaze, tearing it away from the view beyond the window.

Till huffs annoyedly before he reaches for his coat he threw over the backrest and fishes his phone out of its pockets. Brow knit, he scans through the text message and twists his mouth into an unamused scowl.

“Great.”

He sounds upset and when his gaze meets Christoph’s, Christoph knows that Richard won’t appear in the studio either.

“His girlfriend unexpectedly showed up,” Till states flatly while carelessly throwing the magazine onto the coffee table in front of him. Again, he reaches for his coat, but this time, to depart. But before he starts his way to the door, Till hesitates and turns back to Christoph.

“Fancy a coffee after this unbelievably exhausting meeting?”

He looks amused, his eyes flashing with subtle irony.

Christoph gets caught by this sight, and allows memories to wash over him. Indeed, he is dearly missing him and that’s something he could never deny. But after breaking up, Till pulled out all the stops to make it easy for Christoph to hate him.

Till takes his silence as a negative answer, shrugs, and turns for the door.

Left behind with his thoughts, Christoph jumps up to his feet only when the door slams shut. He wants to talk. Talk about what happened between them and why it happened. He still has no clue why Till left him like that; all of sudden, without a single word of explanation. It felt like he wasn’t enough anymore.

“Till!” With a few big steps, he follows his ex-boyfriend to the staircase. Before he could lose this opportunity, he speaks up, saying almost reluctantly, “I…I’d be happy to talk.”

Till stops at the half landing. Coat over his arm, hands in his pockets, he remains there like a statue. Only when Christoph follows him down, he starts to move again. Turning around with a serious look on his face, his eyes show a hint of well-known melancholy. “What more needs to be said?”

This statement has Christoph coming to a stop. An ashamed red begins to develop in his cheeks. An unsettling feeling spreads in his core, slowly developing into anger. Tensing up his jaw, Christoph gives Till a pleading look, made effortless with his pretty blue eyes. It works. It always did.

Till’s posture slackens. His car keys jingle between his fingers, until he catches them in his hand with a final spin. As he starts to ascend the stairs, Christoph notices a hesitance, but every step is filled with a growing confidence. For the brief moment Till stands next to him, Christoph plays with the thought of touching him, though he knows it wouldn’t be rational nor wise. Before he could decide, Till already walks past him.

“If you insist,” Till’s cold voice echoes through the staircase and has Christoph losing a considerable amount of hope. He corrects his posture and rebuilds the wall he formed all those months ago to protect himself.

Till’s lack of interest has Christoph’s anger coming back even stronger. He shoots him a waspish look. “If you’re so _thrilled_ about this, we should just leave it.”

An almost amused smile flashes across Till’s lips. “You asked for it so we’re going to talk.” He opens the heavy sound-insulated door and waits for Christoph to follow him.

Christoph’s anger feels untameable. He attempts to neglect the patronizing tone in Till’s voice. He takes a deep breath and climbs up the remaining steps. Back in the small recreation-room, Till goes straight for his former spot. Retaking his seat, he watches Christoph follow him in and choose to stand near the window. Christoph crosses his arms in front of his chest, watching the parking lot below him.

“Why?” Without casting a glance towards Till, he asks the one question that is unfairly broad in an attempt to obtain the answers he seeks, but he’s only met with a forceful, impatient huffing.

“What do you mean, _why?_ Christoph, give me a concrete question and stop beating around the bush or I’ll leave.”

Whatever that answer was, Christoph kind of expected it. Till’s behaviour is incredibly similar to the attitude he bore two months ago.

“Will you knock it off?!” he growls with an agitated jerk of his hand, unable to contain his anger any longer. Lips in a tight line, he finally manages to look at Till. “What are you even trying to do? Do you think behaving like an _ass_ will get you laid? Or perhaps, you truly want me to hate you. That’s it, isn’t it? Well, Till, let me tell you one thing: it’s working.”

Realizing how hurtful that was, Christoph wants to press his hand over his mouth. But it’s too late. Fury is taking over his mind, putting unfair words in his mouth.

It has Till cocking an eyebrow. He seems to provoke it. “And yet, your greatest fear seems to be being replaced. You can’t manage a break-up involving personal differences. You’re not even _trying_ to understand. You are such a goddamn egomaniac sometimes.”

Christoph opens his mouth; he fails to find a fitting response. When he gathers his thoughts, he tries to maintain his composure, but fails again. “Who left whom? And shut up about me being an egomaniac!”

“Now this is getting ridiculous. Stop recycling what I’ve said when you’re out of valid arguments. It’s pathetic.” A cheerless laughter escapes Till’s mouth. He brings a hand up and rubs at his face tiredly, and then shakes his head. He speaks lowly, bitterly, looking up at Christoph past his fringe. “Use your critical thinking, Christoph, and bring yourself into question. Or am I asking for far too much? You may think you’re suffering greatly, but I have no patience for your drama.”

As he says this, Till’s voice steadily increases in force and volume, conveying his agitation well enough. It has Christoph massaging his temples with his index and middle fingers. He tries to calm down, but every verbal blow decreases his self-control, chipping away at it until he’s overwhelmed and unable to withstand it anymore. Uncaring of Christoph’s blatant turmoil, Till continues with a sharp gesture of his hand.

“You and your standards! Are you _really_ blaming me for giving you the impression that you’re not good enough for me? Take a look around and solve your _own_ shit first. _I_ could have _never_ been enough for _you_ because of your exhausting arrogance!” Tills vibrant eyes are full of anger and annoyance.

The animosity and desire to hurt behind those words stabs deeply into his heart, more than the meaning of the words themselves. Christoph can feel them breaking through his walls, but he won’t let them take control of him. He won’t back down.

 Instead of filling him with regret and submissiveness, it enrages him and has him stepping forward and pointing almost violently at the other man, scowling with a reddened face as he snaps, “Cut the bullshit! Who was the one who went walking? _You_ were the one and still--!“, Christoph nearly trips over the lack of words he can’t find, but he manages to pick himself back up and finish in a vicious snarl, “Yet, you are standing firm. We both have faults, but you are too much of a coward to face them. To better yourself. You’d rather wallow in your misery than do something about it. That misery is a warmth to you now, Till. It’s a closer friend, a closer lover than I ever could be.”

It feels like hours until Till speaks again. A deep hatred paired with an age old instinct emerges in his look. When he speaks again, it sounds like a tempest. A low growling escapes his throat as he moves to stand from his place on the couch, staring at the other man with ferocity in his darkened eyes, “You’re an unbelievably naive and dishonest fool. You think of me as someone with a weak personality? You want to go on like this; hurting everyone without consideration? So let me tell you, Christoph--if I did one single thing right, it was leaving you.”

Till takes one step further towards Christoph, menacingly jabbing his finger into Christoph’s chest. His gaze is cloudy with dull rage, having more impact on Christoph than any words ever could.

He notices a change in the older man’s face. It seems like a switch flipping. The tension around his lips softens, his vibrant green eyes flashing with a faint vulnerability. Faint, but there.

When Christoph takes a step back to get away from Till, his back meets the wall.

Till himself stands there like a barrage blocking Christoph’s way.  The situation has Christoph’s rage vanishing, giving way to an unfamiliar helplessness. He looks down and clears his throat, trying to rid of the lump in his throat. There is no back and forth for their relationship. He feels trapped.

All the more, he is surprised when a hand lays under his chin and gently raises his head for him to look up again. And then suddenly, Till’s warm lips meet Christoph’s in a hungry crush, and then every coherent thought, every question, every sliver of hesitation shuts down completely.

 

Devotedly, he lets himself fall into Till’s arms and then he feels rough fingers finding their way under his sweater. The kiss is breathtaking and Christoph loses his mind in a storm of his own thoughts, of confusion, of conflicted eagerness, until it all suddenly goes silent again. Till having his warm grasp around Christoph’s hips is the only thing that is real. The only thing he can focus on. The only thing he _wants_ to focus on.

Uttering a sigh, Till lets him go, burying his face in the crook of Christoph’s neck. It seems like he tries to inhale his whole being. To absorb him into himself. An intimate gesture, a feeling.

Gradually, Christoph relaxes from this unexpected change. It takes a moment, but finally, his tension manages to dissipate, and then he’s slowly raking his fingers over Till’s back.

Returning memories flood his brain with pictures of shared evenings, trips and the sensation of every intimate touch, however small. He feels so ridiculous while shakily catching his breath and, simultaneously, trying to regain control of the current situation.

Each of Till’s soft touches has their favoured impact and it has a heat curling in Christoph’s belly. Without quite meaning to, Christoph eagerly leans into Till’s attention.

Each breath, every sound from Till’s throat drowns all of his inner conflicts. He tenses up, each tiny hair along his skin fighting against it, but at the same time he feels content, trapped behind rose-tinted, long-broken glasses.

“Sleep with me.” There is no pleading, no question, no forcing, no asking tone in Till’s voice. Shaped by lust, Till’s words flood Christoph’s belly, settling in his core like a smouldering fire. His body is suddenly alight, thrumming with energy, with lust, with restlessness. The promise of what’s to come brings his body to life. He feels blood rush southwards.

He silently nods, dumbstruck, and raises his hands to clutch at Till’s neck.  Suddenly, his desire is back. His desire for Till to touch him, the desire to touch Till himself, the desire to _feel_. Absentmindedly, Christoph runs a finger through Till’s short hair, he gets lost in his imagination.

Though Till seems to have less time-consuming plans.

As if he would’ve only waited for Christoph’s consent, Till grabs his hips, turning him around with a low snarl escaping his mouth. Christoph finds himself pinned against the wall. His heart excitedly pumping blood through his veins has it pooling in his centre.

The well-known callused caress under his sweater makes shivers run down his spine. Till’s sudden, firm clutching on his waist has Christoph gasping.

The next moment Till places his lips on his neck to gently mouth at his shoulder. With a sudden twist of the mood he bites down into the muscle, _hard_ , drawing a surprised yelp out of Christoph. Apologetically, he licks the irritated skin, while his hands eagerly try to push up the thick fabric of Christoph’s sweater.

The light air draft on his exposed skin has Christoph shivering and he becomes aware of just how overheated he is by now. Pleadingly, he shoves his ass against Till’s hips, only to encourage him more. Hands against the wall, Christoph closes his eyes. His thoughts meander around like he’s delirious with lust, but at the same time, it seems like they stand still, sober and uncertain.

What are they even doing? Was it right to succumb to what they’re doing here? He ignores this doubt. His desire for touch, for feelings, for _Till_ is just too great _._ He wants him and he _needs_ him.

 

Till’s hand shamelessly grabbing his crotch immediately discards any lingering thought of doubt. A choked moan breaks out of his throat, followed by Till chuckling lowly.

Christoph presses his ass back against Till. He’s starving for more and huffs with dissatisfaction when Till’s hold withdraws.

Closing the space between Christoph and the wall, Till presses closer to him, pinning him to it. Restricted like this, his attempts seem even more helpless. Christoph can feel the bulge in Till’s pants, his strong chest at his back. It has him longing for more of _him._

Moaning, almost pitifully so, he pushes against Till, lays his head back against Till’s shoulder. Turning his head to face him, he manages to kiss his stubbly jaw. From the corner of his eyes, Christoph catches a light smile pulling across Till’s lips. A strong hand planted between his shoulder blades forces him against the wall. Before he can react to this in any way, Till’s other hand impatiently opens his pants.

A hot wave of lust surges through his body. Obviously, Till is in a hurry and Christoph won’t bother to stop him.

With dexterous movement, Till pulls Christoph’s pants down to his thighs, grabs his ass hard, and lets his fingers roam over it.

“You should be used to this,” Till states in low whisper, a smirk audible in his voice.

Momentarily, Christoph is distracted by Till’s low, gravelly voice, but then he realizes the meaning behind the whispered words. Stunned, he opens his mouth to argue with that statement, but Till’s hot fingers rubbing up against his hole rips a surprised moan from his throat. Face flushing, he tries to hide behind his bangs.

Till runs his hand on Christoph’s back further upwards to grab his neck. He grips him there sternly as he removes his fingers from Christoph, if only to spit onto them, before reaching back down again. Christoph tenses up at the feeling of the slick saliva against him. And then Till begins to slowly force his finger into him, soon followed by a second. Christoph grunts under his breath, brow furrowed. Till starts to move those fingers, aided with the insufficient glide of his saliva. It feels heavenly good, if shadowed by a stinging pain. Christoph props his head back against Till’s shoulder, moaning full with ecstasy.

 

The more abandoned he feels, when Till withdraws his fingers silently. Though the sound of a zipper being opened comes with promises that are abundantly clear; an unspoken progression into what is about to happen.

Attempting to remain as patient as possible, Christoph lets his head rest against the wall in front of him. The abrasive surface is cold compared to his skin. Breathing heavily, he remains silent, feeling the rhythm of his heart echoing through his whole body. The vulgar noise of Till spitting into the palm of his hand breaks that rhythm.

By now, Christoph isn’t aware of heaven and hell anymore. The excitement is swallowing his entire capability of thinking straight. It feels like times never changed.

A deep and appreciative growl vibrates throughout Till’s chest as he slowly sinks into Christoph.  The aching, long-known pulling spreads in Christoph’s lower abdomen, but he’s enjoying it. He knows it will pass; the discomfort. He’s far too occupied with his own arousal regardless.

Christoph is boiling with ecstasy and lets a long, appealing moan slip out of his mouth. He missed it.

Ignoring the faint, stinging pain, he pushes back against him, before Till has even bottomed out in him. Christoph wants more and he wants it now.

Till, relenting, immediately starts to move with eager snaps of his hips. His mouth hangs slightly agape, uttering deep noises of pleasure. His impulsive movements don’t leave any opportunity for being affectionate.

The firm grip of Till’s hands on his hips holds Christoph in place. Every succeeding thrust has him turning into a submissive mess. He isn’t interested in the missing romance in this scene. He feels only Till, in the most intimate way, giving him the same feather-light emotion love normally does.

Christoph can feel Till’s warm breath on his neck and hears his stifled moaning. He’s trying to hold it back. Whereas, he himself doesn’t restrain himself from releasing his unrestrained noises of pure arousal.

His exposed erection craves attention, and he would touch himself, but because of Till’s strong thrusts, Christoph needs his hands to keep himself propped against the wall.

Arching his back, it makes for a better angle and produces harder, deeper thrusting that feels thrice as good. A heat curls in his belly, intensifying with every thrust that throws his hips forward.

Christoph’s face is pushed against the wall, twisted into a pleasured grimace, his skin brewing droplets of sweat. Now, after so long, he finally feels complete again. Every single thought, every feeling, gets lost in a whirl of lust. There is a liberation taking control of his entire body. A feeling only Till can give him – only Till could have given him all along.

Slowing down, Till wraps an arm around Christoph’s hips. He can feel his muscular bicep tensing up against his own heated skin.

A calloused hand is placed upon his belly, caressing it, before sliding down and grasping his cock in a firm hold. It has Christoph shuddering. The shiver turns into a relieving moan when Till starts jerking him off to the rhythm of his thrusts.

Christoph is trapped under Till’s broad body and it’s hard for him to keep up. His fingers curl against the cool wall, his mouth falling open in heated pleasure.

 

The heated moaning joined by the steady sound of skin on skin fills the small room. A guttural grunt from Till’s throat floods Christoph’s core. He feels sweat building on his forehead – he’s close.

The whole situation – Till’s striking distance taking up everything, his smell – nearly overwhelms him.

A strange, but pleasant anticipation mixes with mental overload, when Christoph realizes Till is suppressing his moans more often now. And his powerful thrusting is unraveling in pace, out of rhythm.

When an ascending growl makes Till’s lips part, it seems like he puts his whole weight into the following thrusts, and it has Christoph panting out breathless moans. Till practically slams him into the wall with the force in the animalistic bucking of his hips. He can feel the wave of his own orgasm reaching its highest point.

The volume of Till’s moaning increases when he starts to come, burying himself deeply into Christoph. It’s just what Christoph needed to tip over the edge.

The tension disappears all of a sudden while his orgasm overruns his whole system, and even has him losing his voice. Christoph lets himself fall completely. Gasping, he can feel Till’s chest heaving, pressed to his back.

Still panting, Christoph feels his legs giving out. He doesn’t have the energy to support himself anymore. He lets himself sink down towards the ground, but Till catches him, holding him in a firm embrace. Burying his face in Christoph’s shoulder, he huffs a quiet laugh.

Christoph isn’t sure about the feeling that builds up when his orgasm fades away. Euphoria blends in with its negation. Slowly, he lets his head sink onto Till’s chest. He still can feel his own heartbeat surging through every inch of his body. In the spots where their bodies connect, it feels like his pulse revolts against the touch.

Eventually, Till withdraws and it has Christoph holding his breath for a short time while he finally manages to steady himself. He has to use the wall next to him as a support, as he pulls his jeans back up from his sweat-slickened thighs. The feeling that came up earlier turns out to be a punch to the guts.

Christoph doesn’t dare look up. He can hear Till adjusting his clothes directly next to him, but neither of them are saying a word, the silence settling over them like a heavy weight. Somehow, Christoph feels vaguely suffocated.

Finally, Till’s vibrant green eyes cross his own slightly worried gaze.

“Come on.”

Wrapping both hands around Christoph’s biceps, Till guides him to the black couch on the other end of the room.

The moment his thoughts come back, insecurity spreads in his core again.

Staring at his fidgeting hands, Christoph listens to Till opening the window, and to his rummaging as if he searches for something.

Cushions shift, when Till takes a seat right next to him, letting his lighter click open, and the next second, cigarette smoke reaches out for him. The smell has Christoph craving for a cigarette, too, but he is far too overwhelmed by his current state of mind.

He feels Till’s gaze resting on him. Exhaling deeply, he prays the tears go unnoticed. Nervously running a hand through his hair, Christoph finally manages to look at Till.

Cheeks still flushed deeply from the preceding strain, Till’s dark bangs fall into his face, partly hiding the expectation in his eyes. He has one arm lingering on the armrest, fingers curled around the lit cigarette.

“I miss you.”

It only takes three words to tear down Christoph’s control, cutting into his flesh like sharp blades. He desperately tries not to break down.

Inhaling shakily, he reaches out his hand demandingly, silently asking for a drag of Till’s cig. Searching Christoph’s eyes, faint sorrow flashes Till’s features before handing him the required source of nicotine. Propping his elbows on his knees, Till hides his face in his hands with a sigh. “Everything became too much.”

His calm but muffled voice reaches Christoph, who literally clutches to the cigarette.

“We were always together, we always saw each other. There wasn’t a minute of alone time. We hung around together every second, everything we did, we did it together. Moreover, we were working on the album, going on tour – it simply became too much.” Till lifts his head from his hands, glancing at Christoph. He continues, speaking lowly, gruffly, “But then I made this mistake as a way of trying to escape this feeling of confinement… and you moved on as if nothing happened. You didn’t do anything, and that was the upsetting part for me. I am aware that I should’ve talked to you from the very start. It had to be my responsibility to explain myself, to explain why I was overreacting like this. Instead, I acted like a stupid idiot, just because it was the most logical thing to do for me in this context. And if I am being completely honest, it was the easiest option, as well. I had to punish myself, and I forgot about you while doing so. It may have been the most imprudent reaction I ever made. And I just want to let you know that I’m sorry, even if it doesn’t matter anymore.”

The last words leave Till’s mouth in a low murmur, it has Christoph – still trapped in his thoughts – nearly missing them. He feels like he’s frozen. He can’t produce any kind of reaction at first – he doesn’t even notice the butt of his cigarette beginning to burn down. In that moment, the memory of what happened shortly before the final concert of their last tour aches less than Till showing regret. It has him choking on his own feelings and his own thoughts, sent spinning by Till’s insightful monologue. Christoph knows Till is being honest, but his body refuses to give in to his first impulse of forgiving Till unconditionally.

The seconds that pass are lengthy and stretched. It seems unending, until Till breaks the silence again. “Do you hate me?”

It has Christoph shifting, regardless of his current inner ache. He sits up, eyes burning with tears. He avoids Till’s gaze again. “I’m not sure.” Anger mixes with helplessness and causes a hitch in his voice. “I think, I… I lost myself in trying so hard… too hard … not to love you anymore.”

For some stupid reason these words were hard for Christoph to say. He catches his breath, desperately tries to maintain his composure.

“You behaved like my presence was toxic. For fucking two months, Till! And now-“ Christoph stops mid-sentence and gestures into an undefined direction, trying to find the right words. “What is that? It seems to me like a frenetic attempt to get rid of every single emotion each one of us bottled up. Wasn’t it exactly that? Some senseless fucking?”

Christoph’s voice cracks. He is not sure _what_ to feel, or _how_ to feel anymore, and this helpless distress finally causes a single tear to run down his cheeks. Warm and wet it blazes its trail down to Christoph’s chin.

He is too exhausted to care of brushing it away. Gaze lowered, he unnecessarily crushes the already dead cigarette into the ashtray.

It’s too late to restrain himself. A second tear follows the first one, then a third, then a fourth. Christoph doesn’t want to cry, doesn’t want to make himself vulnerable, but he’s not able to prevent it anyway.

Silently, he accepts Till’s strong arm gently pulling him close.

Christoph hesitates, but finally gives in. He is not able to figure out what’s good, nor what he wants.

He simply hands over his liability, trusting Till to take care of him again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr: haifisch-ohne-traenen.tumblr.com


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